Frailties of the Human Soul
by eriksmystery
Summary: Takes place after the Opera incident. Christine will not marry Raoul because she wants freedom. She learns Erik is missing. I'm building the story as I go along. :-)
1. Chapter 1

((I own practically nothing in this story except for the plot. Read on!))  
  
At last, a fresh, spring day with new flowers and a pleasing atmosphere for those who wandered over to the City Park. Christine was one of those people, curious about what the new day would bring. Today would be free to coincidence and fate. Whatever happened she would let happen. For once, she would relax and enjoy Mother Nature and the splendors of life.  
  
The lush land seemed to be full of places to rest. There were white stone benches beside bubbling fountains. The cool water in these fountains was a welcome change from the heat. Trees stood tall among the many Parisians who looked up in awe of such fantastic beauty. It was all very refreshing as opposed to the days of winter. Finding a nice little spot that was clean of dirt and most ants, which Christine detested, she settled down on her white sheet and laid her picnic basket beside her.  
  
"Ah... freedom." She said, thinking she was the only one to hear.  
  
Running her fingers through her silky mane she made a pact with herself to enjoy as much of the park as possible. It had been a very long time since she'd visited, and her thoughts had been on the warm rays of the sun and the lush greenery.  
  
To her splendid surprise, she was pestered by an adorable little girl and boy. Their mistress came with them and made conversation with Christine while the children sat with them.  
  
Soon, the children became anxious to play. She waved goodbye and was left to think quietly.  
  
Christine again sighed and found herself feeling very alone. The children's arrival had stirred her social juices, and she was eager for more company. The little girl reminded her of herself when she was young. When she was innocent and unknowing about the truth of the world around her. About the true evils and dangers of this beautiful world. Under her father's watchful eye, she grew into a young lady with the same mentality of a naive child. And because of this, she'd undergone a great ordeal, which changed her appreciation for life and its wonders. Happiness was no longer something she was used to. She now appreciated every day in life as a blessing.  
  
And what was more of a blessing was Erik's decision to liberate her. Erik had been merciful and let her leave, without thinking of his own happiness. What more could she ask from a person who knew nothing of mercy from his own experiences? And she understood, then, why it was so difficult for him to let her go. He hadn't known anyone who wanted him as much as he wanted them. He was giving up his life's dream to free her. The one dream that might've been fulfilled, had she been the angel he'd thought her to be.  
  
She wondered what he was doing now.  
  
"Erik... I will never forget you, try as I might..." were the only words she could muster in thought of him.  
  
"Still thinking of him, are we?"  
  
A smile crept upon her lips and she turned around, flinging herself into the arms of a handsome young man.  
  
Raoul had forgiven Christine for her endless thought of the monster, but had never forgiven the monster himself. And she expected nothing more from him. After all, not only did the Phantom try to demolish his chances of ever seeing her again, but he also tried to take his life. That was a difficult thing to forgive.  
  
"How did you find me?" She exclaimed, surprised at his return so soon, "and why are you here? I thought..."  
  
"Ah, the trip around the world." He took a deep breath of the warm air surrounding them and looked up at the sky, "I canceled it... Again."  
  
And a frivolous laugh escaped from him.  
  
"Again? Why?"  
  
Her face was soon serious, as if she could not comprehend the words he'd just said. Why would he give up his chances to travel for a second time?  
  
"What.." He mimicked her serene attitude, "Are you angry?"  
  
"Why, no..."  
  
"Good! I couldn't stand to be away from you for so long! But tell me, do you still want me?"  
  
"Of course I want you..."  
  
Before she could finish her sentence he interrupted excitedly, "That's wonderful! Swear it to me!"  
  
A smile lit her lips, for he was smiling as well.  
  
"Alright." She laughed, "I swear upon it."  
  
At this, he pulled her into his arms, lifting her high above him as if she were flying.

"You are my reason for staying!"  
  
"I knew it. I love it up here! I could stay here all day with a view like this, if only you could hold me up long enough!" She finished with a giggle and glanced down at his reddening face, "Am I really that heavy?" She gasped playfully.  
  
"No." he lied with a pained smile.  
  
Finally, his strength gave out and he returned her to the ground. The grins on their faces were identical.  
  
"What is all this about, Monsieur le Vicomte?"  
  
He replied, "I have come on business matters."  
  
"Oh, what sort of business?" She replied, to play along as the dumb and oblivious innocent.  
  
"The business of love, my dear friend. I have come with a question that will decide our success in this business."  
  
Christine could suddenly feel the tension in her body rise, and she sighed.

In an attempt at being romantic, he sat her by a spewing fountain and knelt on one knee. Raoul was unaware of her hesitance and continued to take courage and speak to her lovingly.  
  
He voiced the words that he'd been thinking to himself for a long time, "Christine, may I have the honor of having you as my wife?"  
  
A swallow could be heard from the soprano's throat. 'Oh, Raoul!, she thought, You always pick the worst of times!'  
  
"Christine, I know you..."  
  
"You never were very good at being romantic, you know!" she laughed, standing and turning away to hide her expression of awkwardness.  
  
"I thought it was romantic!" he replied, standing and trailing her as she wandered into a grove of trees, "Well, anyway, it doesn't matter! At least I asked you."  
  
"Raoul, I really can't answer you right now... the mood isn't right." struggling to find a better excuse she took his hands, "Raoul, perhaps another day."  
  
Raoul's eyes dimmed visibly, as did his smile, but he tried to look happy, "Is there anything I've done?"  
  
"No... I'm sorry, my friend..." she whispered, kissing a row of knuckles and then smiling reassuringly, "It's simply not the right time."  
  
"I will try again." he sighed and released her hands, "Perhaps my timing will be better. Very well, then. You have your wish."  
  
His purpose for coming back had been suddenly squashed before his very eyes and put to the dust. He saw no reason to stay, and so the Vicomte said his farewells and went away, very solemn looking. And Christine felt such guilt in her heart that even the wonderful sunlight peeking through the leaves of the trees could not lift her spirits much.  
  
The journey home was long and tiring. Never had her spirits been so low since the day she'd returned to her old life. She imagined that she'd done the worst thing to Raoul that she possibly could. She'd refused him without refusing him. She'd pretended to give him hope for another try. No doubt he knew exactly what she meant when she tried making excuses for her behavior.  
  
It just wasn't there anymore, and as she approached the door of her house, she realized it the more she thought about it. Her love for him had begun to shrink down to a simple friendly love. There still remained a little of the desire she'd at first experienced, but it was a very meager desire with little impact on their relationship. At times, Christine wondered if he, too, felt the same way. She even dared to think that he had found another woman more suitable for his family title and for himself. And strangely, this did not effect her. But evidently his feelings for her had not changed as she had hoped.  
  
A smile crossed her lips while she turned the key to the front door of her new home. Mamma Valerious had left the house to her, and Christine had been saved by this gift. She had no money left once she'd gone from the Opera and she hadn't accepted Raoul's invitation to his estate. Her home was far too big for a single occupant, but it was cozy, and held memories of all kinds. Even the bitter memories were sweet in her mind. Anything that involved Mamma Valerious was a comforting recollection.  
  
Mamma's maid, Lillian, came to help immediately. Lillian was her only friend now, and while Raoul had been away she'd spent many hours talking with her and never losing interest. For once, Christine could have a decent conversation with someone whose background was as simple as hers. Lillian had a lovely family somewhere in Italy. That wasn't where she originated from, but it had always been a dream of theirs to visit Venice, Italy. She chose to stay put where she was, to serve her mistress until her dying days and then to serve her adopted daughter also.  
  
Lillian was very pretty, despite the way she dressed. It was expected of a maid to wear simple clothing, especially for working. She had deep, ebony curls and fair but slightly warm skin tones, as well as a voluptuous figure. Not at all the kind of maid Christine had expected. Christine even had days when she'd envy Lillian for her looks. But she remembered that if she envied another, she'd have to accept the whole package, not just what she envied. Would she like to be a maid? For a long time she pondered that, but it soon came to be a no. Freedom was her ultimate preference.  
  
The musty air of the household was for once a welcome scent. Today she felt appreciative of everything, even those little annoyances. She placed the picnic basket on the table along with the white sheet and then made her way up to her room.  
  
A hot bath awaited her, to her surprise, and she sent down a word of thanks to Lillian, who was more than glad to have prepared it for her. The bath water was so hot that tiny bubbles of hot air rose to the top. Lillian had probably meant it to be so hot; thinking Christine would not be back for a while.  
  
Christine decided that she would wait a bit for the water to cool down, and this would give her a bit of time to herself. With a satisfied smile, she threw herself onto her bed and smothered her face in the sheets. She had already changed into a thin, cotton gown, which was more for meandering around the house in. Her hairpins had been tossed aside and she gave her scalp a good, rough massaging to loosen her hair. Her shoes laid in a mess in the corner where she usually threw her shoes. And nothing was more pleasing than to get rid of her stockings. She was relieved to be only wearing one layer, because the spring air was particularly hot that week, and it felt like summer. She liked most seasons.  
  
All except for winter. Her father had passed away during winter. And she had left Erik near the end of winter. Mamma Valerious' husband had fallen ill in the middle of winter, and her death was also during that time years later. Christine wondered if there was a curse upon that terrible season.  
  
"M'lady." Lillian peeked into her room and smiled to find her relaxing, "You've a visitor."  
  
A visitor? Who on earth...  
  
Raoul...  
  
Most likely coming back to ask her what had gotten into her. He had a temper, though childish as it was, that would eventually wear her down. The last thing she wanted to do with fight with him.  
  
"Send him in..." she replied.  
  
"As you wish, mistress." and Lillian went away.  
  
Upon returning she brought with her a darkly dressed man, who wore an astrakhan cap and a weak smile on his face.  
  
"Miss Daae. I am glad to see you well." he muttered, noticing her state of dress, "Perhaps, when you are better dressed?"  
  
Christine blushed slightly behind the covers, and then nodded. Raoul had seen her all sorts of ways, mostly because she had gotten into trouble of some sort. But Nadir, who she barely knew, was not used to seeing her in anything but a thick dress.  
  
This was, needless to say, not lady like at all, despite her efforts to look somewhat... modest.  
  
She was very embarassed, and chose the most covering dress. A high neck collar with long sleeves to the wrists, form fitting but very modest. It made her feel a bit better about her impression upon him, but it caused her to sweat more than she could bear. Again, a rap at the door.  
  
"Good..." she spoke quietly to herself, "He decided to knock..."  
  
She took a deep breath to compose herself and opened the door once more, "Ah, Monsieur Khan. Please, only stay for a moment, I have other things I planned to do."  
  
Nadir smiled, lacking emotion, and then stepped in rather casually. He seemed to have no manners concerning being in a lady's presence, but then, he never had been very expressive.  
  
"What are you here for?" she tried to be as polite as could be.  
  
She knew him very little.  
  
One never knew what the Persian would do next. But, then again, he had risked his life to save her own.  
  
In this way, he resembled Erik very much.  
  
So much had happened in so little time the night she left Erik... It was... all a blur! As if it was a nightmare from her childhood. Faded and missing some parts, but still just as disturbing.  
  
((continued in the next chapter with her last memory of Erik)) 


	2. Chapter 2

((and it continues...))  
  
_ "Your wife?"  
  
"Yes... She chose me of her own free will."  
  
"Free will... Pooh. She was practically forced to with your endless threatening..."  
  
The Persian and Erik talked of her as if she were invisible, but then, she had tried to be invisible. Her own shock made her quiet and submissive, busying herself with whatever she could find to do. Of course, there was no question of her decision when it came to life or death. But wouldn't living with the monster for the rest of her years be death anyhow? Her body may live on, routinely doing the things needed to survive. But would her soul survive... Of course, it was a little price to pay when weighing one soul against hundreds of lives.  
  
But it was her soul...  
  
That was much more significant to her than just anyone's soul. It was her soul, and she was willingly putting her own life on the line.  
  
Yet, she could not say that life with Erik would be completely sorrowful. At least, if he was not a comforting companion, his music was. She could close her eyes and forget the face of the one who played her such surreal music, and she could imagine the Angel again. The faceless Angel with that melodious, alluring voice. The voice that had complete control over her body, her will, her mind. She now understood first hand why Erik's music and darkness were so important to him. They were his only escape from the truths of the world.  
  
Now she understood the meaning of those words that so often rang in her mind: Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth, and the truth isn't what you want to see! In the dark it is easy to pretend that the truth is what it ought to be... _

_  
Music and darkness veiled the truth...  
  
They made it possible for him to hide from his curse.  
  
Would she, too, succumb to blinding herself?  
  
"Christine, we are alone now..."  
  
Christine's eyes closed, savoring the deep tones in his voice, tasting of the sweetness in them. No one but he had the ability to make simple words wondrous masterpieces of the mouth. No one but he had the power.  
  
Eyes again open, she was dazed for a moment and then batted her eyelashes over her glittering eyes. She did not breathe for a moment, and then sighed to let go of her thoughts.  
  
"Yes... We are quite alone."  
  
Silence passed... What had he intended in his words? All of the possibilities floated through her mind, and she found herself suddenly very bashful and feeling... vulnerable.  
  
"Do you know what this means?" he whispered, unintentionally sending his breath cascading across her ear.  
  
She shuddered.  
  
"I have an idea."  
  
It took all her strength to speak.  
  
'Oh help me, Lord..." she whispered in her mind, pleading with Him to give her strength and reassurance.  
  
A cold sensation came to her arm, and she soon realized that it was his hand, his fingers wrapping themselves around her warm flesh. Thrice she felt quivers run through her spine, both from cold and from anxiety.  
  
"Erik... say something. You're making me nervous."  
  
A smirking chuckle filled the room. A chuckle with intentions to intimidate and to caress.  
  
"Still, I make you nervous? Even after all we've been through... I thought you'd be used to it by now. My silence, that is."  
  
She stood and turned to face him with every ounce of courage that was still alive within her, "All silence worries me, Erik, now that I've met you. Especially yours, because you are so..." she sighed and fingered the collar of his tux, "So unpredictable."  
  
He placed his hand over hers, becoming distracted. The two stood for a moment, averting their eyes from one another's faces. They were entirely still, like they didn't know what to do next. Now that everything was over... Now that there were no more choices to make and there was nothing in their way.  
  
They veiled their underlying attraction for each other so well in each other's presence: she was attracted to the mysterious power he held over her, he attracted to her beauty and purity. And yet they still could not hide it entirely.  
  
"Christine..."  
  
She partly could not understand what he'd muttered, for it sounded more like a saddened moan than a name.  
  
Her eyes turned to his, which were still focused on her little fingers. Her precious little hand that could fit in his palm easily.  
  
"You are so..." he seemed hesitant to breathe, should this moment end, "Soft..."  
  
His breath was coming in rasps, but remained slow in its rhythm.  
  
Christine was startled at this blatant and new response of his. Was this how he spoke when she was asleep, and he watched her? When she could not hear him? She dared to hope he would say more.  
  
"Thank you, Erik..."  
  
"Do you realize.." he was suddenly caught up in this new way of expressing himself to her, "This is the first time I've touched you, and you were not asleep? Or even better than that... You are not afraid."  
  
She hadn't really recognized this as being a monumental moment, but now she, too, realized the significance of it.  
  
"I do realize.." she whispered with more enthusiasm than she'd intended.  
  
She had the idea to bestow upon him more of her touch, but an instinct in her mind blocked thought from action, and she instead pulled away and turned with her back to him. Her fingertips slid from his hand, and he expected nothing more from her.  
  
He was again aloof, and he spoke, "I suppose you're wondering what is to happen next. God forbid I expect us to consummate our marriage."  
  
Christine took in a sharp breath.  
  
"I... was not thinking that." her cheeks grew hot as she replied.  
  
"You're a terrible liar."  
  
She did not speak.  
  
She heard rustling behind her, footsteps and a myriad of metal objects, like keys, clanking together. Then, she heard a creaking, wooden door open and hit the stone wall a couple of times.  
  
The honeymoon suite...  
  
"Come, Christine. It is time."  
  
How could he be so calm? So resigned while she stood, nervously gripping her dress and gnawing at her lip. Was this not an eventful evening? Wasn't he looking forward to this? Wasn't it his dream to force her to be what he wanted her to be? To promise what he wanted her to promise? So cold... He was so cold to her. She regretted ever having faith in him.  
  
Tears stung her eyes and she pressed her eyelids together in order to stop them, but she couldn't prevent any more than a few from falling. A slow breath came from her lips and she made a quick, whispering prayer with her hands folded together tightly.  
Turning, she did not look up from her feet, afraid of seeing anything more than darkness. Fear gripped her heart, sending nervous chills throughout her entire body.  
  
"Erik... perhaps... another night. I know it is plucky of me to ask... But I..."  
  
"But you what?"  
  
"I..."  
  
A soft fingertip lifted her chin to face a masked villain, whose mouth was set in a strict line, "Speak to me."  
  
In one soft whisper she replied, "I'm scared."  
  
"So am I..." he replied in a hushed voice which she had not expected, "But it must be done.".  
  
It must be done??  
  
The tears began to flow even more rapidly now. She gave out a sob and placed her hands over her face in shame, for she was angry that she could not control her emotions better, and she wept bitterly.  
  
Another tear, foreign to her own, cascaded across her cheek and landed in the nook of her collarbone. A mournful sound, matching hers but in warmer and more despairing tones came to her ears. He was crying too...  
  
"Why are you crying?" she lashed out in half anger and half surprise, "This is what you wanted!! And you don't even seem to care! I am your play thing! This is what you wanted!"  
  
Despite her effort to turn around his hand gripped her arm and pulled her toward him. His mouth leant to her ear. She struggled against his iron strength but had little success. She was pressed to him firmly without much choice.  
  
'Monster...' she thought.  
  
"No, it is not. It is what you wanted."  
  
She was oblivious to the real meaning of his words, blinded by her loathing for him.  
  
In one swift movement, she was facing the door that he had opened and she hadn't dared to look at. Her abundance of fears left her to be replaced with suspicion, slight disbelief and her absolute shock.  
  
His hand still remained on her arm, but looser now, willing to let her go.  
  
"I cannot force you to live a life that stifles all your dreams, your happiness..." his voice was full of sorrows that no common man could relate to, "The only one here who deserves to die of loss is I."  
  
"I don't... understand."  
  
Erik's grasp tightened and he whispered through his tears, "Go..."  
  
"Erik..." she was surprised to hear in her own voice a sort of regret.  
  
"Go, please, before my heart burns a hole through my chest..."  
  
The hand released her, and applied force enough to her back to make her step over the threshold. His other hand remained at his breast, clutching tightly to his clothing. She suddenly feared that he was experiencing real physical pain.  
  
"Erik." she was worried now, "Erik, wait. What will happen? What will happen now that.."  
  
He began to close the door, losing his will to look at her face any longer.  
  
"Erik! Erik, wait!" she pressed against the door with her hands, then with herself.  
  
They were feeble attempts, for he had strength enough to quadruple her own.  
  
"No!! Erik!!" she cried as he closed the door.  
  
The reality of the situation was now obvious to her. Erik was letting her go, to live with whoever she chose, while he would die, alone, with no one to care for him. With no one to ease his pain.  
  
"Erik!!" she struck the door once, twice, three times with her fists until she had no more hope left, "Erik..."  
  
Oh, the wailing she heard inside! Like the screams of a tortured man, about to be put to death. No more hope, no more dreaming, no more reason left to live! He shattered mirrors, took a knife to his crimson throne, turned over tables and chairs, and mutilated the organ as much as his human strength would allow. He sought ways to let out his anger, finding rooms not yet touched by his destructive hand. He threw the house into disarray and devastated all that meant anything to him like others had devastated him. As careless as she had been with his heart, he carelessly undid all that took his entire life to establish.  
The entrance to the torture chamber was, at last, calming. Here, in the presence of death itself he felt at peace. Erik found comfort in the thought that each of these mirrors only reflected that of a dead man. There was an end to all tragedies. He'd simply looked in the wrong places for the answer.  
  
Christine sagged against the door, her nails scratching at the wood as she sobbed loudly in her grief. Her mind was so unsettled, so wrought with confusion that she could barely believe this was reality. It was all so surreal!  
Something startled her from inside... silence. She slowly stood, stumbling once but regaining her balance against the stone wall. With her ear pressed to the thick stone she could hardly make out any sound at all.  
  
She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, and then pushed her messy curls back into their place. There was nothing to be done but leave. He wouldn't allow her back in, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to come back...  
Finding the strength in her weary legs she began the journey back to freedom._  
  
"...gone..."  
  
Christine glanced up, blinking furiously to gather her thoughts. Nadir lifted an eyebrow.  
  
"Did you catch that?"  
  
"Please, pardon me... What did you say again?"  
  
The Persian sighed and looked up again, "Erik. He is gone."  
  
'Gone where....'  
  
"Dead?"  
  
Her heart hastened.  
  
"Perhaps... But, simply... gone."  
  
"Gone..."  
  
To where could he have gone? In the state she had left him, there were endless possibilities.  
  
((Ok, I know this is mostly fluff. I tried my best. I write only for fun, not to be perfect. I know, I know. My grammar could definitely use tweaking, I am a rambler, and my lack of vocabulary is certain. But forgive me! Please R&R, and try to be kind! I'm a little wary because my last couple stories that I posted got really terrible reviews. Not that they were great, but I'm not asking for lots of put-downs. Constructive criticism is fine with me! If you have any ideas feel free to help out! I am not quite sure where this is going yet, but I think I know. Thanx for reading! Oh, and by the way... What's a Mary Sue?))


	3. Chapter 3

((Thanks very much for your reviews! I wanted to apologize for complaining so much about my last two stories! lol My meaning was that I would rather people be truthful in a kind way instead of cruel. Again, thanks so much for your reviews! Feel free to comment on any specific part of the story that needs improvement, or any ideas that you have for the next chapters. I'm struggling with how to enter Erik, and when to enter him, etc.))  
  
((-A tiny intro- This chapter will mostly reflect Christine's inner struggle with herself. I do believe that in all of us there is something that holds us back from doing what we truly want to do. Christine has an overwhelming longing to be purged of her chains and to experience life to its fullest. I like to imagine that part of Christine's struggle in the end of the Phantom of the Opera is that she feels that either way she goes, she will be forced to hold back a part of herself. Erik offered her a world of opportunity but he still expected her to be what he wanted her to be. I find Christine to be a fascinating character because I feel she is strong, even though she doesn't think so, and I can relate fully to that. People have taught her that she is meek and dependent. At least, in this story that's what happened. Inside of her, I see the opposite. Basically, it is a struggle within herself to figure out what she wants in life. It might be significant to the story later on and it may not. Who knows. For now, I'm simply writing down my thoughts.))  
  
"Letters! Letters! So many letters!"  
  
The rain poured down as if to drown the whole of Paris in freezing cold water. The balcony of Miss Daae's room on the upper floor was no exception, and neither was she. Laying on her side on the floor of the veranda she wrote sentence after sentence on a piece of yellowed paper. Her lip was now raw where she'd been chewing for the past few hours in concentration.  
  
"I must finish them! I must!"  
  
Her hair was soaked through, dangling limply over her face and shoulders, sticking to her skin and sliding down her neck. Her nightgown was just as pitiful looking, but she'd made sure to wear something of dark color to keep the fabric from being translucent. To uphold her modesty.  
  
Modesty. And perfection. All her life perfecting herself had been almost as vital to her as the music that captured her soul. She'd known all her life that someday she would be a lady, and had prepared for that day for quite a long time. Perfection was an achievement that was more important to her than life itself. If she could not be perfect, how could she live? Sorrow would come upon her, and strangle the life out of her. But if she was perfect... If she was pure, sensible, well mannered, kind- hearted, and humble, then no harm could come to her. There would be no reason for anyone to hurt her. And if there came a point when she was still hurt, she would not feel it because she would know that she was perfect. And perfect people do not hurt.  
  
She was sadly mistaken.  
  
Because of her inability to hide who she was, a tremendously imperfect man had fallen in love with her, and had tempted her to feel things and experience things that she did not deem perfect. This was not right. This would not do. She had to follow what she knew was absolutely right, and absolutely ideal. She could not let go and fall into his trap.  
  
Raoul was ideal. He also fell in love with her flawlessness. But he was perfect, and she was safe to fall in love with him.  
  
But Erik was so...  
  
Her breath had been very rapid much like her furious writing. Yet, now it slowed. It slowed until she felt better, more relieved.  
  
"Oh, Erik..." she breathed.  
  
A smile traced her lips, and even lingered a while.  
  
What were these feelings that he inspired in her?? One moment she adored him, the next she hated him with every fiber of her being. Too often she thought of him and stopped what she was doing, simply to dwell upon that name. That simple sounding name that had been given to such a complex human. Complex in every way.  
  
Her eyes opened again and she was startled from her trance once she saw her writing on the page. She whimpered, because the ink was smearing across the papers and she could hardly make out the words. But it didn't matter, she knew what these letters contained. And she went again to her work.  
  
"Dense... Angry... Envious..."  
  
She mumbled a word here and there while she wrote.  
  
The floorboards of her room creaked after a door had opened and shut. Lillian... Christine ran her hand over her face and massaged her brow. The doors to the terrace were opened and left ajar while Lillian watched her mistress through the opening and pursed her brow.  
  
"My lady..." she hoarsely called, "Are you well?"  
  
Christine ignored her and continued writing, muttering about something or other.  
  
"Christine.." now she spoke as a friend and, hesitantly, stepped out onto the balcony.  
  
Immediately angry droplets of rain spattered onto her face and she had to lift a hand to protect herself.  
  
"Christine." she spoke louder now, "Are you well?"  
  
She touched her shoulder and then instantly pulled back. Christine was ice cold and shivering as well.  
  
"Oh, m'lady! We must get you back inside. Come on."  
  
And Lillian proceeded to help her up and stand her to her feet. Christine was very unsteady and her whole left side was numb. Christine leaned onto Lillian heavily and nearly toppled her over, as they both were about the same size.  
  
"I can't, Lillian." the girl groaned, looking down at her papers, "I have to do this."  
  
"What is it you're doing?"  
  
Christine looked over and smiled a little, showing her gratefulness for Lillian's concern. It had been a long time since anyone had really been very close to her. She was thankful for Lillian in many ways.  
  
"Oh, Lillian. It's nothing, really... Well, I suppose you won't believe me now... If it is so important that I am staying out in the rain until three in the morning." and she gave out a laugh that was sodden with disappointment.  
  
Lillian sighed and wrapped her shawl around herself tighter while she sat down on the outdoor settee. She smiled compassionately at Christine, who had now knelt to the ground and gathered up all her papers. Christine shook her head, still saying things to herself that were nearly inaudible.  
  
The storm was letting up, but the darkness and wind would remain. Christine rather preferred it that way. Darkness had always comforted her, and eased the tension in her mind and body. But now she had an awful headache that would not go away, and she was complaining to herself aloud as well.  
  
Lillian clicked her tongue and patted the seat beside her. Now, the rain had reduced to a mere drizzle and was causing ripples in the large pool of water at their feet. Christine gladly sat down, dropping her papers back to the ground, and leaned her head stiffly onto the back of the couch. At once, her headache began to leave.  
  
"What is all this about, Miss Daae? You've been out here, three nights in a row, simply writing! But writing like a maniac no less. And it worries me. You are in no condition to continue this idiotic routine! You'll catch your death in weather like this! Have you forgotten that spring is full of storms?"  
  
Christine pressed her fingertips to her temple and drew them down along her jaw, then let them rest in her lap, "No, I have not forgotten."  
  
Her voice was raspy and weary, and Lillian again scolded her.  
  
"Christine, I will lock you downstairs if you don't let some sense into your head! I don't understand why you're doing this to yourself. What is it that you are writing that is so important to you?" Lillian placed an arm around her dear friend and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "You are like a sister to me. I've never had any sisters. If you become insane I doubt I'll ever have a chance at getting another one."  
  
Christine smiled and chuckled a bit, but then sighed as her somberness eventually returned, "Lillian... I am not perfect."  
  
"That's no surprise. I never thought you were." Lillian joked.  
  
Christine did not look comforted by her light-hearted jest, "I... I always thought I was exactly as a young woman should be."  
  
Lillian lifted an eyebrow and shook her head slowly, "That's a bit vain, don't you think? No one can be perfect."  
  
Christine was quiet for a moment, and then continued, "Well... I suppose... Yes, yes it was rather vain. But I don't feel that way anymore. I haven't since I left the Opera. I've been trying to be myself again. But now, all I want to do is dream."  
  
"You always dreamt, Christine, from what you've told me of your past. Especially when your father was around." Lillian replied.  
  
"I was a child, then. Of course I dreamed. But after he passed away... I lost all hope of ever achieving any of my goals."  
  
Lillian smiled, "But then you met someone who let you dream again."  
  
Christine swallowed and nodded, running her fingers through her sopping hair. Oh, yes. He'd let her dream, and he had encouraged it. Erik was able to make her dreams come true, and he even reminded Christine of her father sometimes. Especially when he spoke of how wonderful she would be someday, admired by everyone who knew her and living a wonderful life. He told her how stunningly beautiful she was, and he marveled at the beauty in her voice, which far exceeded her lovely appearance. There was so much he wanted her to be, and she wanted it, too. That was how they'd bonded so quickly. They had the same interests, the same needs. The one thing they lacked was a common understanding of one another. There was a barrier between them. And a large part of that barrier was her inability to stop being what everyone else wanted, and to allow him to show her who she truly was.  
  
A woman.  
  
A kind but spirited and beautiful young woman.  
  
"He let me do more than dream. He helped me explore the depths of my soul, to see who I..." Christine stopped, and realized something, "To see who I really was."  
  
Christine stood and paced a bit, chewing on her thumbnail as she did. Lillian also left her seat to look over the balcony at the Paris streets below. The street below glittered with water and reflected the moon and its bright stars.  
  
"My, Paris is so majestic." Lillian whispered, "I haven't been able to enjoy a scene like this in quite a while."  
  
"Yes, yes of course." Christine replied.  
  
Lillian leaned her chin onto her hand. Her mistress was a very perplexing woman.  
  
Who was she, really? Well... Christine was a young, needy girl who wanted a husband who would take care of her. She wanted to bear him many sons and live a content, joyful life that was just the same everyday as it was the day before. She aspired to being what every young lady wanted to be at this point in life.  
But then, she also was quite capable of doing what she pleased. She was very talented and possessed the ability to stun everyone with her voice. Whoever this man was that she so often spoke of, he must've been very talented himself. Lillian only knew a little about him. Christine never liked to openly talk about every little detail, but she gave just enough in order to paint a picture for Lillian.  
  
"Tall... Mysterious... Dark and handsome. That must've been what he was like." Lillian remarked.  
  
Christine couldn't help but give a mocking laugh, "Oh, no, my friend. He was far from handsome..." she then stood next to Lillian and wrung her fingers, her voice at a hush, "Lillian... Is it... wrong... to want to be free?"  
  
Now this was odd coming from Christine's mouth! Lillian squinted and scratched her temple with a finger. She was a maid, and that wasn't necessarily a very limitless life. But she had never felt as if she were kept from achieving her dreams. In her mind, she could be anything she wanted at any time, despite the circumstances. Life was one long road, and so it was easy to become bored. There should be at least some sort of thrill about it. And that was exactly what she told Christine. Lillian didn't, and had never believed in the idea that women were subordinate and had no other point in life than to be delicate fopette's in society.  
  
Christine was a bit surprised. Lillian had always seemed to be, in her eyes, very much like her. But obviously, that was not true.  
  
"Lillian... These letters..." she stooped down to pick one from the pile and show it to Lillian, "Are my imperfections, dreams, and mistakes. I wrote them to myself. I had intended to throw them out onto the wind once I was finished. I am tired of trying to be who I am not, but I have no choice. Who I really am is a reckless person." and she let the thin piece of parchment fly away into the night, "And I need to let that go."  
  
Lillian bent down and pulled the rest of the papers into her arms, attempting to read out loud the vague words, "Deceitful... Jealous..." she paused, and then read more, "Dense and angry... Dense and angry? Christine, these aren't you."  
  
Christine glanced over as tears trickled down her face to join the puddles below, "Yes... I am exactly those."  
  
Her voice was a mere whisper, full of shame and guilt.  
  
"I found out who I really am when I met Erik." she sniffled and pulled a paper away from Lillian to let it glide with the wind, "I am all of these, and more..."  
  
A soft sob escaped her and she continued to pluck the papers from Lillian's arms until all but one remained. When Christine made a gesture to grasp it, Lillian stepped back and tugged it away from her.  
  
"No." she weakly denied her access to the paper, "This one is not to be tossed away."  
  
"Why?" Christine tried again to take it from her, "Please, hand it over."  
  
"Christine, these are your dreams! You never told me that you wanted to teach children..." Lillian was in awe of all of the little hopes that Christine was going to carelessly throw away, "You aren't telling me that you wish to let these go, are you? There is so much here you are capable of, if you only would give yourself a chance..."  
  
Christine snatched the paper away and tore it to shreds, stamping it into the balcony floor until she'd let out all her frustration, "There is no such thing as a chance, Lillian. Not for dreams, not for love, not for me! I was born to be a lady of beauty, poise, and perfection. Dreaming is for those who are not happy."  
  
"But then, you're really not living." Lillian countered, "Life is an experience that is supposed to be worthwhile!"  
  
"No one set that rule." Christine whispered, shoving the strips of paper off of the balcony with her foot.  
  
Lillian walked to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "No. Because it is not a rule. It is a decision you can make. You aren't free, Christine. You are tied up. You are preventing yourself from being who you really are. And until you realize it, you will be disappointed in yourself all your life. And your dreams will pass you by and you will never appreciate those who try to save you from yourself."  
  
"I want so terribly to be..."  
  
Lillian prodded her, "To be what, Christine? To be what?"  
  
Christine sniffled again and looked out into the darkness, "To be someone else. I have a vision of the Christine I want to be, and a vision of my true self."  
  
"I don't think you know what your true self looks like. Especially if you think you are all of those awful things: dishonest, uncaring, selfish, and angry. In my eyes, those are a perfect description of what you want to become. If you were absolutely as perfect as you could be, you would think only of yourself, and then you would hate yourself again for being selfish. Oh, Christine. My poor, poor girl. Who taught you that it was a bad thing to want more from life?"  
  
And Christine couldn't answer. No one had told her that. She had assumed it. Christine smiled at Lillian and squeezed the hand on her shoulder, then went back into her bedroom and told her to leave the room. She was to change into something warm and then she would sleep.  
  
A bit later Lillian arrived back at the room with some hot tea. Christine sat upright in her bed against the pillows, looking a bit calmer than she had been on the balcony. She stared in a trance-like way at the wall ahead of her. There was a mirror directly across from her bed, and as she distractedly sipped her tea, she thought that it resembled the mirror in her dressing room quite a lot.  
Lillian stayed with her for the rest of the night, watching after her incase she was to catch cold. All she could think about that night was how unhappy Christine was, and so suddenly, too! Christine hadn't given any clue about her underlying sadness. But now it all seemed to make sense. Christine hadn't let the Opera incident go yet, and she was struggling with her inner feelings. As was mentioned before, Lillian knew hardly a thing about what had happened. But she knew enough to understand that this Erik fellow had been a large part of her life for a long time. She also knew that Christine was a fiery and impassioned woman concealed beneath her fake persona. This also answered the question of why Christine was not accepting Raoul's proposal. She was battling with herself. She wanted to marry him because it was expected of her. Who wouldn't want to marry someone as dashingly handsome and thoughtful as he? But inside of her, she felt unsure about it. Christine knew it would be the wrong thing for her, but she couldn't admit it.  
  
Christine eventually went to her small little library on the first level and spent the rest of the night reading until she fell asleep in her jade colored arm chair with the book open-faced on her lap.  
  
The morning came and went, as did the afternoon, and evening was approaching. It seemed fitting to Christine that she should pay Raoul a visit. It was time to talk to him about her troubles. Lillian was kind and wise, but it would be easier to talk to Raoul, who was a much closer friend. And he would help her, without knowing, to figure out her answer to his proposal.  
  
The horse-drawn carriage waited for her outside and she quickly grabbed her coat before heading out the door. The night was still cold and damp from the many storms that had preceded. She stepped into the carriage, giving orders to the driver to take her to the de Chagny residence.  
  
The rest of the ride was quiet and peaceful.  
  
"Christine! My God, you look awful! Please, come in."  
  
Christine gave him a half smile in reply to his cutting words and let a maid take her coat.  
  
"Yes, I've had a rough couple of nights."  
  
"I should say so! Are you ill?" Raoul questioned, instantly replacing a blanket around her shoulders, defeating the purpose of taking off her coat.  
  
"Raoul... Really, I'm quite fine. I haven't been getting much sleep is all." and she let the blanket fall from her shoulders and handed it to Raoul, "I would like to take a stroll around the park, if you don't mind. My carriage is outside."  
  
The de Chagny boy nodded and followed her out, and they soon were headed to the park.  
  
Inside the carriage, Christine was very quiet, and so Raoul bit back his numerous questions. She seemed in worse spirits than she had been the last time he'd seen her and he was very anxious to know the reason for her coming to visit.  
  
So, after a while, he finally had to speak.  
  
"Christine..." he approached with caution, "I... Well, I was wondering. Have you made any attempts at a singing career yet?"  
  
Christine shook her head with a smile, and said nothing.  
  
It was quite an awkward situation. She had never been so quiet.  
  
"Christine..."  
  
She nodded to him once more.  
  
"Please tell me what is bothering you. I'll do anything to help, to ease your troubles."  
  
"I have no doubt of that, monsieur." and her voice was very happy.  
  
He decided to drop the subject until they arrived at the park. And it was no time before they did. The de Chagny lifted her from the carriage and began to walk with her, hand in hand, along the path around the park. They walked like that in contentment for quite a while until Christine broke the fragile silence.  
  
"I want to be free."  
  
Raoul glanced over and chuckled gently, then looked back up at the stars, "Of course you do. And you are. You are finally free from his power."  
  
Christine's cheeks grew slightly hot at the mention of Erik, but it soon passed and she replied, "No, Raoul. I mean... Free."  
  
He looked over again, "I don't believe I follow."  
  
"Well." she sighed and watched their feet as they walked, "I want to do what I wish to do. I want to be more than what is expected of me. Better than what is expected of me. I am so sick of trying to be who I am not."  
  
"Then don't be." he replied gently, "You don't have to be anyone but yourself. I would rather it was that way." and he smiled, stroking her face with a gloved fingertip, "You are the woman I love when you are Christine Daae."  
  
This was true. Raoul knew the woman inside, and that was who he loved. He adored everything about her and would give the world for her. Her uniqueness was what set her apart from all of the other eligible young ladies that vied for his hand.  
  
"But, Raoul... Is it wrong to be who I am? To want excitement and things normal people do not want and to even be very flawed?"  
  
"Your flaws make you who you are. I wish for you to be exactly as you are, nothing more, and nothing less. Simply you. And I want you to have excitement and do things that are out of the ordinary, because it is what makes you happy."  
  
"Then..." she stopped and held his hands tightly in her own, biting her lip and then forcing out her next words, "You will not hate me for refusing your proposal because of that very longing?"  
  
He suddenly became very speechless, "Christine... I... Well, no... I could never hate you, but..."  
  
"Raoul. If I were to marry you, I would never know true freedom."  
  
He knit his brow and shook his head in disbelief, "No... No! That's not true! I have every resource at my disposal. Whatever you want to do we can do! I have the means."  
  
Christine looked away and replied, "Your family. They do not approve. Despite all you promise I will have to compromise myself and who I am in order to be your wife. They expect certain things, and if you and I elope, they'll cast you out of your family."  
  
Raoul sighed and tipped her chin up, not unlike a certain other person long before, "There is nothing I won't do for you."  
  
But Christine knew better. He loved his family almost more than they loved him. Over time he would grow depressed and homesick, like her father had. And then she would feel guilty and would have to leave. Then where would they be? Their efforts would have been all for nothing.  
  
"I don't know why I didn't see it before." she whispered to herself, but he managed to hear her.  
  
"What? What didn't you see before?"  
  
"It would be impossible for you and I to be together, in any situation. We didn't need my career or my status or the Angel of Music to cause friction between your family and us. It has always been there. Perhaps I should become a nun..."  
  
"Christine, please."  
  
"Oh, I didn't mean it, Raoul. There would be no point. I wouldn't be free then either."  
  
The de Chagny was at a loss for words. There was nothing to be said that could change her mind. Christine was simply too stubborn for him to get through to her.  
  
"If you don't mind, Christine... I'll be walking home tonight."  
  
"You're leaving? Again? Running away from your problems?" Christine replied.  
  
He turned around and looked her in the eye squarely, "That's all you've ever done, Christine. And if that is a part of who you are then perhaps I don't love you. Not if you're running away from me."  
  
And she was left in the park, alone and even more downhearted than before. In a whimper she expressed all of her complete and utter despair. Her legs buckled and she fell to the ground, sitting on her knees and crying into her hands.  
  
Was she wrong?  
  
No, she didn't think so.  
  
The world was wrong, and she was absolutely right.  
  
_ "Animals... They are so wild, so untamed. They are born with the knowledge of only what they need, and they choose from there what they will do in life. Granted their life is very simple. They are not, after all, human. What stops us from being as carefree and wise as they are is our endless contradicting. We must control everything, yet we long to be loosed from that control. If only the human race could finally distinguish what it wants. Until then, our true selves are forced to sleep, and we damage and change ourselves because of our impatience. We commit murder in our rage, accuse others of ruining our lives, become selfish in our pain and destroy all that is lovely. We are truly ourselves when we learn to live life despite our pain, to love instead of hate, and to wait patiently until mankind finds an answer. Because inside the human spirit is goodness and tolerance. And that is truly what we are."_  
  
"Oh, Papa..."  
  
((Alright! Very sappy. Yes. I love sappy stuff!! Still not sure on where Erik will come in, or when he will, or what is going to happen, for that matter! ;-D Throw me your ideas and I'll try to weave them into the story! R&R please!)) 


End file.
